Surrender to the Darkness
by MarieAmethyst
Summary: ***Slash Alert!*** Aragorn is betrayed by a one he thought a friend,and forced into enslavement by Sauron. The Dark Lord has plans for the Ranger, none of them nice...*grin*
1. Betrayal

Author: MarieAmethyst  
Title: Surrender to the Darkness  
Rating: R  
Chapter: One, Betrayal  
Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings, Aragorn, Sauron, etc. etc. belongs to Tolkien. Lyrics belong to Evanescence. All that good stuff. =P  
Author's Notes: What can I say? No one else was writing Aragorn/Sauron slash, so I came up with this. Surrender is based off a lot of my own ideas, and how I view Lord of the Rings. To me Sauron isn't some big flaming eye, and the Nazgul aren't a bunch of almost dead guys running around mindlessly trying to find the One Ring. If you can't deal with that, then this isn't a fic for you. (*grin* Or anyone else, for that matter.) I've toyed with a couple ideas as to how to develop this, but for the most part I'm just writing as it comes to me. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know! I'd be forever grateful. ^_^

I've went back and re-written the chapters a little, adding more and correcting mistakes, that sort of thing. The biggest change is to the character Gwen, in chapter six. Before I had planned on writing a back story to Surrender called Pieces of My Heart, but since that has gotten nowhere, I edited Gwen so she fits more readily in the fic until I can get Pieces written.

If you're having trouble picturing Sauron as something other than a big flaming eyeball, think of Armand from Interview With the Vampire. But with longer hair. ^_~

**UPDATE 12/31/08**: Since so many of you have begged nicely and tracked me down all over the 'Net to ask me if I was ever going to finish it, I have decided to continue Surrender! …Of course I have no idea how I am going to do this, so it should be interesting. :D First off is an overhaul of the story, especially Aragorn's character; he kind of bothers me now. So be looking for updates in 2009. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews/e-mails/comments (I was even mentioned in an article on Aestheticism, lol)! This is for you guys. :)

-*-*-*-

_You can't abandon me  
You belong to me_

_Breathe in and take my life in you  
No longer myself only you  
There's no escaping me, my love  
Surrender_

-*-*-*-

"For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."

~Elrond during the Council of Elrond, FotR~

~*~

Aragorn pulled his dark-green cloak closer around him to ward off the chill of the night. He didn't dare build a fire, for the Enemy had spies everywhere. As it was, he wouldn't have stopped except he had promised to meet a friend. Ralloud, his friend for many years, had sent a message requesting to meet him alone, to discuss private matters.

More stars appeared in the black sky as the night grew older. A cold wind teased at Aragorn's dark hair, a wind not blocked by the trees around him. He reached for the sword he had brought with him, thankful for leaving his other sword that marked his bloodline at Rivendell. He gave the forest around him a sweeping glance, aware of how silent the night had become. Behind him a twig snapped, and he spun around, weapon in hand.

The tall man before him raised his hands to show he was unarmed, a slight mocking smile playing around thin lips. His grey eyes took in the sword in his hands, "Getting wary in your old age, Aragorn?"

Aragorn lowered the sword, raising his other hand in greeting at the similar garbed man. "You know as well as I that those under the Dark Lord have grown in number. So what is the reason for all this secrecy, old friend?"

Ralloud grimaced, "The Dark Lord, who else? I thought you would like to know what I have seen and heard before telling the rest of our people."

Nodding slightly, Aragorn said," You thought well. Come then, what is it that you have seen that troubles you so?"

Moving to sit on a fallen log, the younger man began, "A month ago I was out hunting. As night fell and I began to search for a camp ground, I heard strange mutterings coming from the shadows of a strand of trees. My curiosity roused, I crept over as far as I dared and listened. It was two men, dressed all in black, and speaking a strange tongue I haven't heard in years. From the words that I could decipher, they were in league with the Dark Lord; his spies. They had been sent to watch us, and to find our weaknesses. After a few moments they parted, off to continue their dark mission. Silently I followed one of them, tracking him for a week to learn what I could.

"He snooped around, totally missing all of our camps. He was spotted many times by our people, but I doubt he noticed them. We laid false trails and clues down for him to find, throwing him off track even more. When he thought he had gathered enough information to please his Master, the man turned and walked east. I followed him only for another day, to make sure he was truly leaving. After that I searched for you, and found you had left for another trip to Rivendell. I contented myself to wait two weeks before seeking you out, and I sent a message ahead to ask for this meeting.

"And now that you have heard what I have to say, what do you plan on doing, my leader?"

Aragorn thought for a moment, fingering the hilt of the sword he still held absently. It was indeed grave news that his friend brought, if the Enemy was again taking interest in the doings of the Dunedain. As chieftain, it was his duty to insure the protection of his people. Turning his attention back to Ralloud, he replied, "I do not know yet. I must meditate on it first, before I choose our course. I thank you for bringing this information to me though. Are you returning home now?"

The other man shrugged, "I thought of hunting more, but perhaps I will wait for a fortnight or so."

"Start to gather our men then. I wish to be prepared in case of an attack. I will join you there in a few days."

"As you wish. Until then," Ralloud stood up and bowed slightly at the waist. He then turned and left, vanishing into the dark shadows of the trees quickly. Aragorn stared after him, his brow creased. Something troubled him, and he would find out what it was before the night was over.

Sighing, he moved to where Ralloud had sat, laying back against the log and wrapping his cloak tighter about him after he laid the sword on the ground next to him. Casting the woods around him one final glance, he slipped off into an uneasy sleep.

~*~ Dawn was beginning to creep across the sky in all its brilliant colors when Aragorn woke. A shuffling behind him caused him to roll over, but not before something hard hit him on the head. As the pain exploded in his head, he stared up into the face of Ralloud. "Wh-", his voice failed him. Trying again, he asked, "What are you doing?"

The man smiled down at him, his eyes burning with hatred and mock amusement. "You are far to trusting, Aragorn. It seems there is quite a high price for the heir of Elendil, and I mean to be the one to collect it. Sorry old friend, but with the times as they are now, it is better to side with the strongest. I do this also to protect our people. Sauron has agreed to leave them be if I bring you back to him alive. I am sure you realize that this is best for our survival."

"Fool," Aragorn whispered, fighting to keep conscience, "you should know that the Dark Lord never keeps his promises. He is just using you."

Laughing, Ralloud shook his head, "Where is your noble self now, Aragorn? You have always said you would gladly give your life for your people, and now here is the chance! Yet you back out like a child. Have you suddenly changed your mind?" He shook his head, "What will our people think?"

"You know I would give my life for my people, but I know this is a trick. I thought you had better sense then to trust that of evil. You will bring the downfall of us yet!"

The grey eyes filled with more hatred, "Easy for you to say!" he cried, "You have always been the hero! Well, for once I am going to be it! And unfortunately, there is nothing you can do about it now!"

The older man stared at him sadly, knowing his friend had been cast under a dark spell. That was what had been bothering him before; and he did not blame his friend. The promise of power had lead more then a few to destruction, and he was not surprised Ralloud had given in to it. Especially if it meant the safety of their people. But still it hurt him deeply. He locked stares with the other man, grey against grey, and then he knew no more.

~*~

Ralloud stared down at Aragorn's still body. He was filled with mixed emotions, but sure he had done the right thing. Aragorn's sacrifice would mean the survival of his people, something he valued more than all else. But he could not help but feel guilty.

Pushing all such thoughts away, he motioned to the two men standing in the shadows behind him. They stepped forward, chilling the air around them. Staring at them, he shuddered in fear, for they were Nazguls, the Dark Lord's personal servants. Their blood-red eyes gazed at him, promising death and suffering.

Stepping back, he gave them wide berth as they stooped to pick up his once friend's body. His misgivings again arose as he watched Aragorn being carried to their midnight colored steeds, but he dared not speak up now. Ralloud reminded himself it was for the best, but silently his conscience screamed at him as the Nazguls mounted and then set off, their black garments streaming behind them. He bade farewell to the man he had once called brother before fleeing into the woods.

The sun arose, a strange red, the color of blood. Many saw the strange sight, and signs were made to ward off evil spirits. And the hope of man was carried off East, toward the Dark Lord in his Land of Shadows.


	2. Audience

Author: MarieAmethyst  
Title: Surrender to the Darkness  
Rating: R  
Chapter: Two, Audience  
Author's Notes: What can I say? No one else was writing Aragorn/Sauron slash, so I came up with this. Surrender is based off a lot of my own ideas, and how I view Lord of the Rings. To me Sauron isn't some big flaming eye, and the Nazgul aren't a bunch of almost dead guys running around mindlessly trying to find the One Ring. If you can't deal with that, then this isn't a fic for you. (*grin* Or anyone else, for that matter.) I've toyed with a couple ideas as to how to develop this, but for the most part I'm just writing as it comes to me. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know! I'd be forever grateful. ^_^

I've went back and re-written the chapters a little, adding more and correcting mistakes, that sort of thing. The biggest change is to the character Gwen, in chapter six. Before I had planned on writing a back story to Surrender called Pieces of My Heart, but since that has gotten nowhere, I edited Gwen so she fits more readily in the fic until I can get Pieces written.

If you're having trouble picturing Sauron as something other than a big flaming eyeball, think of Armand from Interview With the Vampire. But with longer hair. ^_~

**UPDATE 12/31/08**: Since so many of you have begged nicely and tracked me down all over the 'Net to ask me if I was ever going to finish it, I have decided to continue Surrender! …Of course I have no idea how I am going to do this, so it should be interesting. :D First off is an overhaul of the story, especially Aragorn's character; he kind of bothers me now. So be looking for updates in 2009. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews/e-mails/comments (I was even mentioned in an article on Aestheticism, lol)! This is for you guys. :)

-*-*-*-

_You can't abandon me  
You belong to me_

_Breathe in and take my life in you  
No longer myself only you  
There's no escaping me, my love  
Surrender_

-*-*-*-

"For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."

~Elrond during the Council of Elrond, FotR~

~*~

Aragorn was jerked back to consciousness when the door of his cell was thrown open. In the doorway stood two leering orcs. They walked over to him, and he stared up into their hideous faces defiantly. If this was how he was to die, he would face it bravely.

But they merely unlocked the chains that bound him to the wall. One motioned for him to stand, and growled something in its guttural language. Aragorn managed to get his feet underneath him, but when he tried to stand they gave way. The orcs cursed foully, then reached down and jerked him up. Supporting him on both sides, they strode out the door and into the dark hallway beyond.

~*~

Sputtering torches were placed along the walls randomly, providing the barest of lights to see by. Judging from what he could tell though, Aragorn didn't mind that much. He kept his eyes resolutely straight ahead, and tried to block out the sights around him. Silently he prepared himself for what was to come, and was determined to keep his honor at all costs.

All too soon his escorts stopped before two wide doors, inscribed with runes of power. Evil was present, and radiated from the room beyond the doors. Aragorn paused instinctively, giving the doors a wary glance. The orcs grunted and pulled him forward roughly. The guards standing at the doors pushed them open, and Aragorn stumbled in.

The room was huge, black from the walls to the floor beneath his feet. A variety of warriors stood about the room, casting him unfriendly glances while toying with their weapons. A stench filled his nostrils of unwashed bodies and other things he did not wish to dwell on. The two orcs on either side continued to steer him further into the room, until he reached the middle. After that they quickly turned and all but ran away. Confusion wrinkled his brow as he was suddenly left alone, and an eerie silence prevailed in the room. Then the man stepped forward out of the shadow.

Tall he was, and cloaked in black. His dark eyes flashed from a pale face with an unreadable expression, and a small smile played about his lips. Giving Aragorn a slight bow, he said, "My lord, we are pleased that you could join us."

His eyes went wide, but he quickly covered his surprise. But not before the man before him noticed. Pursing his lips, Aragorn refused to say a word, and stared at a point behind the man's dark-clad shoulder. Better not to fall into the trap until he knew what it was.

Grinning broadly, the man clapped, as if in good humor. He took a step closer to the Dunadain, as if to measure him. "Truly the reports we received about you are true, brave and fearless. Many would have quailed by now. Do you know who I am?"

Aragorn shook his head, and the man captured his gaze. "I am the Mouth of Sauron, his Lieutenant of Barad-dur," he said softly, watching for Aragorn's reaction.

He had heard that name before, uttered in fear. This was Sauron's messenger to the living, one of the most ruthless of his warriors. The mention of his name was enough to cause fear that equaled that of Sauron's name. Evidently some of his thoughts showed on his face, for the Mouth of Sauron laughed.

"Good! You have heard of me. But you have nothing to fear from me, or at least not now. The Master has ordained that you are to live. And now, my lord, you will be shown to your room."

"Room?" The word slipped out before Aragorn could stop it.

Still grinning, the other man said, "Unless you prefer your cell." Aragorn wordlessly shook his head, "I did not think so. You will be lead to your room for rest, then Sauron want will see to you."

Before he had a chance to reply, the two orcs who had escorted him returned. Grasping his arms, they turned and strode out the door with him, as the dark-robed man disappeared back into the shadows.

~*~

Aragorn was once again led down the dark hallways, his mind trying to sort through everything. He had expected to be in a cell at least, waiting to be tortured. Instead, he was being shown to a room, at the Dark Lord's request. He had known enough about Sauron to be prepared for a trickery of some sort, for he delighted in the unexpected.

The orcs stopped before another door, this one bearing no unordinary marks. One pushed it open, and then shoved Aragorn into it. He quickly caught his balance, but not before the door slammed shut behind him. No lock was used, but the unmistakable sound of the orcs still standing in front of the door left him no chance to escape. Sighing, he looked around at the room he now occupied.

It was plain, only the barest essentials furnished it. A bed took up most of the space, and a bundle of black laid on it. He walked over to inspect it, and found clothes folded neatly. He picked up the silk shirt and held it before him, wondering if it had been left there by mistake.

The door was thrown open and he spun around. Two men walked in, barely giving Aragorn a glance. Between them a wooden tub was carried, filled with water. Seeing his confused look, one told him in a harsh voice, "Your bath, my lord. Master wishes you clean when you see him." They set the tub down in the middle of the room and departed.

Shaking his head, he dropped the shirt back onto the bed and walked over to the tub. Dipping a hand slightly into the water, he found it to be warm. It reminded him of how unclean he must be, but he wondered why the Dark Lord would care whether he was clean or not if he planned on killing him. Then the words of the Mouth of Sauron came to him. The Master has ordained that you are to live. Shrugging, he striped off his soiled clothes and stepped into the tub.

The servants had left a bar of soap and a towel beside the tub, and he reached down to pick the soap up. Cleaning his body as best as he could, Aragorn dunked his head under the water and quickly washed his hair, letting the longish strands drip water down his face when he rose back up. The water was beginning to cool before he stepped back out and dried off with the black towel. Walking over to the clothes on the bed, he gave them a look before drawing them on, finding that they fit his tall frame perfectly. The silk felt strange against his chest, but the only other option was to wear his tunic again. Opting to keep the shirt, he sat down and drew on his worn leather boots.

As he finished dressing, the door of his room was again opened. The orcs motioned him forward, and snarled something at him. Taking the hint, Aragorn walked back out into the hallway, knowing it was time to face his fate. Positioning themselves on both sides, they strode quickly back to the Great Hall with Aragorn between them. He now wished he had brought his sword with him, to give him at least some comfort. It was only fitting to have the Sword that had cut the One Ring from Sauron's own hand be with him as he faced the Dark Lord. Though he doubted Sauron would share that humor.

They stopped , and he once again stood in front of the strangely carved doors, and again the guards opened them. Not knowing what to expect, he stepped inside...

To find the room deserted. After seeing him inside, the orcs rushed away as before, and the guards shut the doors with an echoing click. Casting a glance around the room, he took another step forward, not noticing the dark shadow that had detached from the wall.

"Welcome back, my lord," the Mouth of Sauron called out, making Aragorn jerk toward the sound. He gave another small bow, "I trust the room was to your approval? As was the bath and clothes?" His eyes took in the black silk shirt and pants that the Ranger now wore.

Nodding, Aragorn looked around the room once again. "I thought I was to meet Sauron? Or has he suddenly become frightened?"

The Mouth of Sauron laughed, "Fool. No, the Master has not become frightened at facing you. In fact, he is looking forward to it eagerly. Perhaps you are the frightened one?" His dark eyes seemed to stare into his soul, and he smiled grimly, "So you are. You show more sense then most of your kind does. Fearing Sauron is wise indeed.

"But you wish to see the Dark Lord? Very well, you shall! For he has already seen you. The Dark Lord Sauron," he said with a flourish, before bowing and stepping back into the shadows. A high laugh rang out, chilling Aragorn to the bone. From the shadows of the wall before him came a man, if he could be called that, robed in garments as deep as the darkest night.

"Greetings, Lord Aragorn. I have been waiting for this moment for a long time," Sauron said with a dark smile.


	3. Sauron

Author: MarieAmethyst  
Title: Surrender to the Darkness  
Rating: R  
Chapter: Three, Sauron  
Author's Notes: What can I say? No one else was writing Aragorn/Sauron slash, so I came up with this. Surrender is based off a lot of my own ideas, and how I view Lord of the Rings. To me Sauron isn't some big flaming eye, and the Nazgul aren't a bunch of almost dead guys running around mindlessly trying to find the One Ring. If you can't deal with that, then this isn't a fic for you. (*grin* Or anyone else, for that matter.) I've toyed with a couple ideas as to how to develop this, but for the most part I'm just writing as it comes to me. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know! I'd be forever grateful. ^_^

I've went back and re-written the chapters a little, adding more and correcting mistakes, that sort of thing. The biggest change is to the character Gwen, in chapter six. Before I had planned on writing a back story to Surrender called Pieces of My Heart, but since that has gotten nowhere, I edited Gwen so she fits more readily in the fic until I can get Pieces written.

If you're having trouble picturing Sauron as something other than a big flaming eyeball, think of Armand from Interview With the Vampire. But with longer hair. ^_~

**UPDATE 12/31/08**: Since so many of you have begged nicely and tracked me down all over the 'Net to ask me if I was ever going to finish it, I have decided to continue Surrender! …Of course I have no idea how I am going to do this, so it should be interesting. :D First off is an overhaul of the story, especially Aragorn's character; he kind of bothers me now. So be looking for updates in 2009. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews/e-mails/comments (I was even mentioned in an article on Aestheticism, lol)! This is for you guys. :)

-*-*-*-

_You can't abandon me  
You belong to me_

_Breathe in and take my life in you  
No longer myself only you  
There's no escaping me, my love  
Surrender_

-*-*-*-

"For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."

~Elrond during the Council of Elrond, FotR~

~*~

"Sauron!" Aragorn cried out, reaching for the sword that wasn't at his side. The Dark Lord laughed again, smiling coldly at him.

"Yes, I am he. Does it surprise you? Perhaps you were expecting something else? A mere shadow, or a deformed body?" He spread his arms slightly, inviting Aragorn to survey him.

That was what Aragorn had expected. He never imagined Sauron to be so... beautiful, if in a cruel way. Raven-black hair spilled down his back, held away from his face by a simple silver circlet. High cheek bones framed eyes as dark and fathomless as the shadows around them. Always he had been told Sauron was nothing more than a shadow, and yet before him stood a man, with skin as pale as the snows in winter.

Robes rustled as the Dark Lord stepped nearer, gazing long at Aragorn. What he saw seemed to please him, for he smiled slightly, with only a hint of harshness. "Do I please you, my Lord Dunadan? For you please me. You should wear black silk more often."

Averting his eyes, Aragorn ignored the last comment and answered, "It matters naught if your appearance is not what I expected. I am sworn to destroy you."

One long, pale hand lifted from within the black robes, and in his grasp Sauron held a sword. "Of course. You are welcome to try and destroy me, if that is what you wish. And perhaps it will convince you that it is not possible." The sword, glittering dully in the dim light cast by only a few torches, beckoned him forward. Sauron extended the hilt toward him, lifting a black eyebrow when the Ranger hesitated. "What is the matter? Frightened?" He asked, mocking Aragorn's words before.

Resolving himself, Aragorn reached out and grasped the hilt. It was surprisingly light for its size, and he gave it a suspicious look. Then he looked back up and prepared to strike. The Dark Lord stood absolutely still before him, a mocking smile forming when Aragorn made no move. Taking another step closer, he placed himself within easy range for Aragorn to strike. "Come, what are you waiting for? You said yourself you wanted to destroy me. Here is your chance! Is the sword to heavy for you? Should I call another in to do the job for you?"

With a cry, Aragorn struck, only to have the sword stop an inch from Sauron's body. An unseen force was protecting the Dark Lord, or more likely his own powers. With a sigh of defeat, Aragorn lowered the sword, then looked up into his enemy's face. Instead of the triumphant expression he knew would be there, Sauron's face was unreadable. "You've proven your point," Aragorn said with another sigh. The sword fell from his grasp and landed with a muted clatter.

Moving closer, Sauron lifted the Ranger's face with one cold hand. Staring into grey eyes for a moment, he observed the defeated light within them. With a sigh of his own, he said, "I only meant to prove a point, Aragorn, not to break that spirit inside of you. In truth, that is what draws me to you, that fire that refuses to stop burning. But now I fear I have done what I truly wished to avoid.

"What will it take to restore that fire, that confidence? You are not the kind to wish for power, and are not swayed by greed. A companion from your own people? Though he would be only in name. You are now mine, my Lord Aragorn." The last was uttered in a whisper, near the other's lips.

Aragorn stared back helplessly, lost for a moment in the dark eyes gazing intently into his. With a small cry he stumbled back, putting distance between them. He wished now he hadn't dropped the sword, for it gave him some security. As if reading his mind, the sword darted from the floor to stop before him, and automatically he reached out to grasp the hilt again, shock plainly on his face.

"I want you to be afraid of me, Aragorn, that I will not deny. But I will not hurt you, not unless you give me reason too. If the sword makes you feel more secure, keep it. Or should I send for your precious sword? Narsil as it is referred too, believe. Or perhaps you would like to become my lieutenant?" From the shadows the Mouth of Sauron stirred at his Master's words, betraying his displeasure at the offering of his job. Sauron paid him no mind, continuing to gaze at the man before him.

"And why should I believe you, father of lies?" Aragorn asked, taking another step back. He was slowly falling under the Dark Lord's spell, but he felt no incarnation directed him. He didn't even want to consider what that meant.

"And what choice do you have otherwise?" Sauron countered, remaining where he stood, though it seemed to Aragorn he was nearer than before.

"None. But I do not understand what someone like you would want with me. Before you called me yours, though I cannot recall ever surrendering beyond the lost of defeating you with the sword," Aragorn said.

"There you are wrong, my lord," Sauron murmured, "You are mine, and will always be. Long have I desired to have you, and now that I do, I will not let you go." His ebony eyes were alight with a dark desire, and he wore a predator's grin.

The doors stopped his retreat backwards, and he could only watch helplessly as the Dark Lord began to stalk closer, robes flowing around a tall body that he now noticed as if for the first time. Aragorn drew in a sharp breath as Sauron stopped only inches from him. Again the cold hand cupped his chin, then slid up to his cheek, where another cold hand stroked the other cheek. And slowly, Sauron lowered his head and captured his lips with his own.

With a moan Aragorn let his head fall back under the assault of the hungry lips on his. A hand slid up on its own violation to tangle in the raven-black hair, as his other came up to cover a hand on his cheek. The icy lips lifted from his, then trailed small kisses down his cheek and over his eyes. Obediently, Aragorn closed them, trying to pretend this was not Sauron he was kissing, but a chuckle told him his thoughts were again read.

"You can deny it as much as you want, Aragorn," he whispered, biting delicately at an ear, then smiling as the Ranger shuddered against him, "but your body betrays you. You want me as much as I want you." With that he again took the other's mouth, and the protest died on the Ranger's lips. Sauron's arms slipped down to encircle his waist before pulling him more firmly against him.

"You are mine," he whispered against Aragorn's lips. Aragorn could only groan in response...


	4. Desire

Author: MarieAmethyst  
Title: Surrender to the Darkness  
Rating: R  
Chapter: Four, Desire  
Author's Notes: What can I say? No one else was writing Aragorn/Sauron slash, so I came up with this. Surrender is based off a lot of my own ideas, and how I view Lord of the Rings. To me Sauron isn't some big flaming eye, and the Nazgul aren't a bunch of almost dead guys running around mindlessly trying to find the One Ring. If you can't deal with that, then this isn't a fic for you. (*grin* Or anyone else, for that matter.) I've toyed with a couple ideas as to how to develop this, but for the most part I'm just writing as it comes to me. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know! I'd be forever grateful. ^_^

I've went back and re-written the chapters a little, adding more and correcting mistakes, that sort of thing. The biggest change is to the character Gwen, in chapter six. Before I had planned on writing a back story to Surrender called Pieces of My Heart, but since that has gotten nowhere, I edited Gwen so she fits more readily in the fic until I can get Pieces written.

If you're having trouble picturing Sauron as something other than a big flaming eyeball, think of Armand from Interview With the Vampire. But with longer hair. ^_~

**UPDATE 12/31/08**: Since so many of you have begged nicely and tracked me down all over the 'Net to ask me if I was ever going to finish it, I have decided to continue Surrender! …Of course I have no idea how I am going to do this, so it should be interesting. :D First off is an overhaul of the story, especially Aragorn's character; he kind of bothers me now. So be looking for updates in 2009. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews/e-mails/comments (I was even mentioned in an article on Aestheticism, lol)! This is for you guys. :)

-*-*-*-

_You can't abandon me  
You belong to me_

_Breathe in and take my life in you  
No longer myself only you  
There's no escaping me, my love  
Surrender_

-*-*-*-

"For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."

~Elrond during the Council of Elrond, FotR~

~*~

The moments seemed to melt into one as the assault on his senses continued. Aragorn groaned again as Sauron traced his lower lip with his tongue, before plunging it inside his mouth. He was slowly submitting under the Dark Lord's masterful administrations, drowning in the touch...Then with a gasp he realized what he was doing, and tried to pull his mouth away. But his struggles proved useless as Sauron only held him tighter, bruising his lips now with the intensity of his kiss.

For a moment he gave back in, letting his mind go blank. An image surfaced though, and Arwen gazed out sadly. Aragorn cried out, jerking back and stumbled against the wrong. Leaning his arms on the dark, cold wall, he buried his face in them. His breath came harshly to his ears, and he knew without looking his face was flushed. His enemy, the one he hated more than anything, had caused such a reaction in him. Unbelievable.

There was a stirring behind him, and without looking he knew Sauron stood behind him. Lifting his head slightly, he started sightlessly at the dark wall before him. "Why?" he asked quietly.

"Because I want you," came the equally quiet reply. "And I always take what I want."

Aragorn gave a bitter laugh, "Is that all I am to you then? Something to take?"

"You have no idea. But I doubt you and I are thinking along the same lines," Sauron murmured dryly.

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"You are intelligent; you figure it out."

A soft breath of air on his neck warned him a moment too late as arms slid around to draw him back against an unyielding chest, causing him to inhale in a shuddering breath in an attempt to keep his emotions in control. Keeping the image of his beloved Arwen firmly fixed in his mind, he stood stiffly in the embrace.

A chuckle sounded in his right ear, mocking him. "You continue to persist in this, I see. But soon you will see it is only pointless, and will submit to me. And then you will know pleasure that you have never known before."

Fighting the shiver that threatened to betray his body, Aragorn retorted, "I would rather die than submit to you."

"I should kill you," Sauron whispered, grasping the hand that still held the sword. It fell from the Ranger's grip to the floor with the same muted clatter. "I should kill you," he whispered again. "No more worrying about your cursed line. The West will be without their precious hope, and laid bare for me to claim. Oh yes, I have every reason to kill you," Lips teased gently at the delicate arch of his ear, "but I won't."

"I will not submit," Aragorn said in a strained voice, trying to ignore the lips playing with his ear. A wordless murmur was Sauron's only response. "I will not," he said with more force, turning his head away. The wandering lips, not daunted, shifted to brush the tanned neck covered slightly by black silk. Words in a strangely melodious language reached his ears in a soft caress, casting a strong spell that had nothing to do with magic, and everything to do with the feeling of the body behind him, the hand drifting in lazy motions across his chest and arms, the lips teasing gently.

Abruptly chilled air blew across the heated skin of his neck as the lips withdrew. For a moment he was confused, before coming out of his daze. Anger flickered in him as he realized the ploy. Shifting around to face his adversary, he found Sauron smiling wickedly at him. Remembering to late that he was still held within the loose embrace, he found himself pressed too close to the other man's body for his comfort.

The arm still about his waist tightened just noticeably, preventing his retreat. "Let me go," Aragorn said angrily, "I tire of your games. I do not know what you are playing at, but I assure you it is not amusing. Kill me, if that is your will, but do not toy with me."

A shadow passed over the Dark Lord's face so quickly, Aragorn almost didn't catch it. Those dark eyes burned into grey ones with an anger that outmatched his own. In a blur, he found himself up against the hard wall.

"This is not a game," Sauron hissed quietly, "I want you, make no mistake. But if you keep pressing your luck, I will grant you your wish and kill you. In a way you would not like, for I will make it as drawn out and painful as possible. Or perhaps I will keep you as a slave. I would have taken you by now if this was just a game to me. So do not try my patience anymore than you already have, my lord Aragorn." Bending down, he kissed him furiously, showing none of the gentle coaxing from the previous kisses.

Aragorn didn't have a chance to react before Sauron stepped back. The pale face was once again composed, betraying none of the previous anger from the moments before. Arms were withdrawn, leaving him standing with the cold air gently caressing bared skin. Feelings came and went, in a whirlwind of emotions. Fear warred with shock, denial with...desire.

Wrapping his arms about himself, he let his eyes slide close. A small breath escaped his parted lips as he struggled to find himself and the balance that had always sustained him. Even the image of Arwen, beautiful in her ageless way, could not disrupt the confusion in him.

"You no longer know what to think, do you?"

Eyes opened heavily to regard the other, having forgotten his existence for an instant. But Sauron would not give even that little assurance. "No."

"Then do not think, just feel. Feel my desire for you; surrender to it."

Wordlessly Aragorn shook his head, "I cannot."

"Cannot, or will not?" Sauron countered, a mocking smile crossing his lips.

"Both." He leaned back against the cold wall behind him, strangely feeling weak.

"Oh? What other reasons do you have besides the obvious?"

Dark hair. Grey eyes. A small smile and graceful form. "I am pledged to another. My heart is not mine to give, my lord, even if I wished it."

A wicked smile this time. "I can make you forget her. I know how to please you more than she ever will."

"I do not doubt that. But I have no wish to forget her. I will defeat you, and Evenstar will rule at my side." A defiant look crept into the grey eyes, locking gaze with the ebony.

It was Sauron's turn to shake his head, a lock of raven hair falling across his face, "I find one problem with that reasoning, lord Aragorn .You are in my fortress, surrounded by my loyal servants and armies. How do you propose to defeat me?" Again the wicked glint. "I know of one way, if you would like for me to show you."

"What part of no do you not seem to grasp?" He asked, exasperated. "And why would I tell you my plans? I may not be feeling my best right now, thanks to you or whatever force is working here, but I am not that far gone."

"Perhaps I should inform you that there is no 'force' acting here. Whatever you are feeling now is of your own making, not mine. I prefer my partners willing, not forced. But, back to other matters, you have brought up an interesting point. I cannot have you running off, now can I?"

Aragorn again closed his eyes, letting the chill invade his body. "You have already made sure that will not happen, Dark Lord. Even if I was to win through this fortress, there is still Mordor to cross," he recanted bitterly.

"Yes, there is always that..." The soft voice took on a thoughtful tone. "Still, I would insure another means to keep you...safe from the dangers found in these halls." Light footfalls fell as he approached the Ranger. Holding his hands before him, a silver collar, encrusted with small rubies, appeared in his hands in the same manner as the sword had done before.

Unaware of the other's action, Aragorn tried to sort his thoughts out. But the cold touch of metal at his throat pulled him out of his brooding. Eyes snapped open to meet Sauron's in surprise, a hand reaching up to touch the collar around his throat. "What-?"

Smirk. "My way of protecting you, my lord Aragorn. Since you refuse my offer to share my bed, I will use this means to let it be known you are mine. Of course, if you choose to accept my proposition, I will remove the collar."

Surprise gave way to resign, "But what need do you have of further protection? You just said yourself every person here is yours."

The pale face took on a cold look, "Unfortunately, not all here is agreeable to you being here as I am." His tone made it clear he would not discuss it further.

Aragorn again touched the smooth silver, feeling the gems dig into his fingers. Humiliation at being forced to such a level as a slave washed through him, battling with the anger that had been rising. A pale hand covered his, stroking the tanned skin sharply in contrast, "It suits you, lord Aragorn, though I would rather place a crown upon your brow than this collar at your throat. A fine ruler you would be; together we would be a pair to rival that of any from all the lands. Consider that, remember all you could do then." Lips pressed against lips, a mere brush and exchange of breath. Then Sauron was moving, walking back into the shadows.

"Surrender to me." Darkness flowed around the lithe body, welcoming its Lord back into its embrace. And he was gone.

Quickly another form stepped from the shadows, as the Mouth of Sauron moved from his position against the opposite wall. Aragorn, surprised, had forgotten the other was even there. But what really shocked him was the open hatred burning in the other's eyes as he came to a stop before the Dunadan. He realized finally what Sauron had meant.

Without saying a word, the Mouth of Sauron moved to the tall doors and opened them, motioning for the orcs to enter. They jumped to obey, sensing the man's murderous mood. Each grabbing an arm, they led Aragorn out of the Great Hall. Before the door was closed behind them, he looked back to see the Mouth of Sauron staring after him, his face set in a cold mask.

Aragorn was again showed to the plain room. Stepping inside, the door was shut behind him with a slam, the lock sliding home. Suddenly weary, he cast off his boots and shirt, and fell quickly asleep, pushing aside the troubling thoughts to deal with later. And the dreams came.


	5. Dreams

Author: MarieAmethyst  
Title: Surrender to the Darkness  
Rating: R  
Chapter: Five, Dreams  
Author's Notes: What can I say? No one else was writing Aragorn/Sauron slash, so I came up with this. Surrender is based off a lot of my own ideas, and how I view Lord of the Rings. To me Sauron isn't some big flaming eye, and the Nazgul aren't a bunch of almost dead guys running around mindlessly trying to find the One Ring. If you can't deal with that, then this isn't a fic for you. (*grin* Or anyone else, for that matter.) I've toyed with a couple ideas as to how to develop this, but for the most part I'm just writing as it comes to me. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know! I'd be forever grateful. ^_^

I've went back and re-written the chapters a little, adding more and correcting mistakes, that sort of thing. The biggest change is to the character Gwen, in chapter six. Before I had planned on writing a back story to Surrender called Pieces of My Heart, but since that has gotten nowhere, I edited Gwen so she fits more readily in the fic until I can get Pieces written.

If you're having trouble picturing Sauron as something other than a big flaming eyeball, think of Armand from Interview With the Vampire. But with longer hair. ^_~

**UPDATE 12/31/08**: Since so many of you have begged nicely and tracked me down all over the 'Net to ask me if I was ever going to finish it, I have decided to continue Surrender! …Of course I have no idea how I am going to do this, so it should be interesting. :D First off is an overhaul of the story, especially Aragorn's character; he kind of bothers me now. So be looking for updates in 2009. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews/e-mails/comments (I was even mentioned in an article on Aestheticism, lol)! This is for you guys. :)

-*-*-*-

_You can't abandon me  
You belong to me_

_Breathe in and take my life in you  
No longer myself only you  
There's no escaping me, my love  
Surrender_

-*-*-*-

"For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."

~Elrond during the Council of Elrond, FotR~

~*~

_Emptiness._

_Soundless._

_A brush of wind against his face. The presence familiar._

_Hair flowing in the wind, silver eyes shining, full lips set in a smile._

_Arwen._

_Happiness._

_Welcoming arms, pale as the moon glow. Sweetly whispered words. A pledge._

_Sadness._

_A mist arises. Arwen gazes sadly at him, fading. Gone._

"No!"

Aragorn sat up in the bed, his body covered in a cold sweat. The dream had felt so real to him, as if it truly had happened...But no, the bare walls, a mockery of a cell, reminded him he was not in Rivendell. Arwen was far away, safely guarded. Yet the feeling that he had lost something would not leave him.

Glancing about the room as if to find an answer in the walls, he saw a formation against the wall to the right of the bed that he had not noticed before. Standing up, he crossed to stare at it, before reaching up to grasp what looked to be a small handle. It swung out, letting in a thin beam of light to fall upon his face.

A slight wind caused his body to shiver at its caress, almost instantly reminding him of other caresses stroked upon his skin by pale hands. Caresses he liked, his conscience mocked.

"No I did not..." he denied to himself. What stars that could be seen through the murky darkness outside the window taunted him of freedom, seeming as if he could just reach out and grasp one. Knowing how foolish that thought was, Aragorn leaned his arms upon the base of the window. Letting his mind drift in memories of forest glens and an alluring face, his eyes slid closed.

~*~

Hours may have passed, or just minutes, before he reopened his eyes. More light was streaming in though the window, and he supposed it was never truly day in Mordor. His mind still rushed about in different directions, but more in the background of his thoughts. Softly closing the window, Aragorn returned to the bed and laid down, giving in to the suddenly powerful urge to rest.

~*~

_Muted._

_A touch upon his cheek._

_Murmured words in a language foreign to him, mixing in his blood._

_Lips, cold as ice on a wintry day, whispering across his neck. And the brush of black rose petals, glittering like fallen stars and crowned with frost, descending all around. Reaching out, he caught one in his hand._

_Immediately his hand numbed partially, the petal twinkling in its tarnished innocence from the center of his palm. A hand reached up to interlock fingers with his, the petal trapped between the two. The chill he felt turned into fiery ice, burning him to the core._

_Centering on his lips, smooth. Teasing him with its promised sweetness, a flick of a tongue to taste the dew._

_A moan into the open mouth over his, parting his lips with a tongue. Willingly he obeyed, wanting another taste of desire. Tongues engaged as the kiss deepened, fingers tightening around the ones held in his._

_Yearning to be closer._

_Somehow knowing, the other hand slid around his waist, skin tingling under fingertips. Then with a sharp tug, his body was pulled against another. The feel of soft cloth against his bare skin caused him to shiver, the hand gliding across his back digging in slightly in response._

_Pausing for breath, he gasped in air, bringing up his own free hand to tangle in the long raven hair. Pushing closer._

_Lips left a trail of wet, open kisses from his jaw down to his neck. They stopped for a moment to bite lightly, then sooth the skin with a lick of the tongue. Again words flowed about him in a foreign language, sounding melodious and edged with desire._

_Suddenly the craving to feel bare skin against his own filled him. His hand buried in the mass of silky strands slid down, coming to rest on the cloth-covered chest. His search for the hooks of the robe distracted as the lips continued their downward quest to skim over his chest. White heat flared as the mouth covered his nipple and the tongue lightly flicked it, then tugged gently._

_With a groan, he let his head fall back. Encouraged, the mouth continued to suckle, the hand about his waist grasping him closer, the evidence of his arousal ground against the other's._

_He fumbled at the hooks, groaning again when they wouldn't come undone. A chuckle sounded against his chest at the frustration echoing in the sound._

_A warning sounded distantly in his mind, a memory began to surface. The chuckle sounded familiar..._

_Lips claimed his roughly before the memory could form fully. It was lost as fire spread through his body once more, and his mouth again parted, breath suspended. His hand, still resting on the other's chest, met bare skin as the cloth seemed to melt away. Smooth as silk, burning his hand like ice, and he wanted to feel more._

_Pulling his mouth from under the other's, he leaned in to brush the chest in a movement similar to what the other had done, letting his lips worship the skin now revealed to him._

_A hand trailed upward to curl gently around his neck, tracing a pattern with one long finger. Then he was being urged up by the hand, and his lips were again tasted. The kiss was unlike its predecessors, just a brush and a mingling of breath. His eyes had slid closed to savor the moment, only to snap open at the whispered words, "Surrender, Aragorn."_

_Hands were withdrawn; one from behind his neck, the other from where it had remained locked with his own. The hand brushed the cold metal around his neck that had went unnoticed, painfully recalling his enslavement. The other stepped back, fully revealed in dark splendor. And was gone._

~*~

Aragorn sat up again, body shivering in the aftermath of the dream. Sauron, pale body gleaming in the strange luminosity that suffused the surroundings, gazing at him with a small wicked smile playing about his beautiful mouth. The scent of roses all around, rose petals' icy touch caressing his body. So similar to his caresses...

A sudden burst of chill shock went through his left arm, his eyes jerking immediately to the source of his discomfort.

His hand was closed around a black rose, perfectly formed. Bringing it up to his face, he studied it as well as he could in the dim light provided by a candle lit on the small table next to the bed, evidently left there by another servant.

In the center of the rose laid a crystal in the shape of a tear. The light from the candle was caught in its depths, and for one moment he thought he saw it glow briefly. Shaking his head in denial, Aragorn laid the rose with it's tear on the table, then cast a look around.

The room had remained unchanged. He had expected to see some sign of the Dark Lord's presence, yet none was revealed in the soft light. He was tempted to believe it was just a dream, brought on by the events of the day before. Or the manipulation of magic, as he had accused Sauron of using. His mind refused to accept any other explanation. He was not feeling anything for the Dark Lord beyond loathing.

Yet his skin still tingled in remembrance of the heated caresses.

Shoving to his feet, Aragorn made a decision. Pausing to pull on his shirt and his boots, he focused his mind on his task. He wanted answers, nay, demanded them. No more of the Dark Lord's little games and devious lies that left him confused, he wanted the truth.

Walking to the door, he grasped the handle with one hand. Expecting it to still be locked, his grey eyes widened in surprise when the door swung silently open. Not pausing to ponder over that mystery, he stepped into the hall lit by sputtering torches. No one was in sight.

Smiling grimly, he started off in the direction he recalled the Great Hall was.


	6. Guinevere

Author: MarieAmethyst  
Title: Surrender to the Darkness  
Rating: R  
Chapter: Six, Guinevere  
Author's Notes: What can I say? No one else was writing Aragorn/Sauron slash, so I came up with this. Surrender is based off a lot of my own ideas, and how I view Lord of the Rings. To me Sauron isn't some big flaming eye, and the Nazgul aren't a bunch of almost dead guys running around mindlessly trying to find the One Ring. If you can't deal with that, then this isn't a fic for you. (*grin* Or anyone else, for that matter.) I've toyed with a couple ideas as to how to develop this, but for the most part I'm just writing as it comes to me. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know! I'd be forever grateful. ^_^

I've went back and re-written the chapters a little, adding more and correcting mistakes, that sort of thing. The biggest change is to the character Gwen, in chapter six. Before I had planned on writing a back story to Surrender called Pieces of My Heart, but since that has gotten nowhere, I edited Gwen so she fits more readily in the fic until I can get Pieces written.

If you're having trouble picturing Sauron as something other than a big flaming eyeball, think of Armand from Interview With the Vampire. But with longer hair. ^_~

**UPDATE 12/31/08**: Since so many of you have begged nicely and tracked me down all over the 'Net to ask me if I was ever going to finish it, I have decided to continue Surrender! …Of course I have no idea how I am going to do this, so it should be interesting. :D First off is an overhaul of the story, especially Aragorn's character; he kind of bothers me now. So be looking for updates in 2009. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews/e-mails/comments (I was even mentioned in an article on Aestheticism, lol)! This is for you guys. :)

-*-*-*-

_You can't abandon me  
You belong to me_

_Breathe in and take my life in you  
No longer myself only you  
There's no escaping me, my love  
Surrender_

-*-*-*-

"For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."

~Elrond during the Council of Elrond, FotR~

~*~

The hallways were deserted as before, only the sound of his boots treading on the hard floor breaking the still silence. A part of his mind remained baffled; it was rumored the Dark Lord had legions of slaves and servants at his beckoning, yet he had seen but a handful. And none had appeared to stop him after he left his room. A possible trap, his instincts warned silently, heightening his already elated senses.

Before him the strange door stood. Apprehension filled him as it had the previous two times, but resolutely he pressed forward. No guards were there, protecting the entrance to their Lord's throne room as they had done in the last instances he was brought here. Walking forward, Aragorn stretched a hand out, unease flickering through him, and touched one door with the tips of his fingers. At once vileness flooded through him, his hand jerking back in reflex. Breathing deeply to dispel the lingering affect, he shook his head slightly, again reaching out and this time pushing the door open.

Without pausing Aragorn strode into the dimly lit Great Hall that housed Sauron's throne, determined to face his oppressor and receive answers. Glancing around he noticed the Hall had not changed any in a night's time, still cold and dark, like its Master. And empty.

Disappointment briefly replaced the apprehension, before Aragorn compressed the feeling. Turning to return the way he had come, the Ranger was halted by the sound of his name. He knew who it was that had spoken. The Mouth of Sauron.

"I seek your liege," Aragorn said quietly, still facing the open doorway.

"Lord Sauron is resting in his chambers, not to be disturbed unless it is a grave matter," the cool voice replied.

"I wish to speak with him, nonetheless," he returned, just as coolly. Dislike of the Lieutenant filtered through him, but he ignored it and concentrated on what he had set out to do upon awakening.

"And if he does not wish to speak with you?"

"Is that not up to him to decide?"

The other became silent, and Aragorn could feel the hatred radiate from the figure behind him. "You are indeed arrogant, Lord Dunadan, to believe Lord Sauron would be at your beck and call. Once he has taken you and seen you are but a mere mortal and nothing more, he will tire of you and toss you aside like a used rag. He will see I am the only one worthy to share his bed and his rule," the Mouth of Sauron hissed softly.

Aragorn turned slowly, incredulity at the other's words rising. "You believe that I will ever share his bed, submit willingly to his touch, when even the smallest caress fills me with disgust?" he asked, pushing aside the part of him that reminded him just exactly what Sauron's touch filled him with.

The other snorted in contempt, "Lord Sauron always receives what he wants. It is only a matter of time before you are added to his list."

Aragorn's words were spoken in a voice tight with anger, "That, my lord, will never happen, on that I can assure you."

"So you say, yet Sauron is patient."

"And I am persistent." He turned back toward the doorway, only to see another occupied it.

A woman, with long, fiery red hair done up in elegant braids and large emerald eyes, stood noiselessly with an air of waiting about her. A long, dark green dress trimmed in silver sheathed her slender body, adding to the gracefulness and beauty she radiated, her smile full and genuine.

"Greetings and well met, Lord Aragorn," she said softly, a strange lilting in her voice. "Lord Sauron has bid me bring you to him, where he is resting in his private chambers." The emerald eyes, greener than any leaf or grass he had ever seen before, never wavered from his.

"Then please lead me there, Lady-?" Aragorn said courteously.

"Guinevere, wife of Lord Alastair. Who I am sure you have heard spoken of, if not yet met." A wry grin replaced the smile on her full lips.

He nodded, unsure of how to reply, when the nasal voice intruded. "Such a pleasant meeting, no doubt, but you would be wise not to be too friendly with this man, Guinevere. Your husband might start to wonder."

The Lady looked over Aragorn's black-clad shoulder at the other standing beyond. "Peace, Lieutenant. My lord knows my heart is his alone. Quit letting your jealousy get the better of you," she said mildly. Returning her gaze to Aragorn's, she asked, "If you are ready?" She offered her right arm.

Stepping forward, he tucked her arm under his in the common manner of escorting. He could not resist liking her, for to him it seemed she was not a part of this dark place, set above it in the gentle innocence deep in her eyes.

"Are you a prisoner here as well?" he found himself asking.

Guinevere turned her face a fraction to glance back into the shadows of the Great Hall, before motioning with her free hand toward the hallway ahead of them. Together they began to walk, leaving the Hall behind. The door they had been standing next to slammed shut on its own accord, causing Aragorn to look back quickly.

"Do not trouble your mind over much, Lord Aragorn," Guinevere said, drawing his attention forward again, "you will witness many magical deeds in Barad-dur."

"You have not answered my question, Lady," he replied instead. "Or do you wish not to speak of it? For if that is the case I will not force it out of you."

She laughed, the sound echoing merrily through the corridor. "Nay, I am no prisoner here, but a resident of my own free will. Oh, I know what you are thinking," she said, gazing at him sidelong, "what could possibly interest anyone in such a morbid place?"

"Yes, in truth," he said.

Her face took on a slight faraway look, "That in itself is a long tale, which I might tell you in full at a different time. But for now … When I first came here I was pretty absorbed in myself, quite obnoxious actually. Not at all like I am now, I can assure you," she said with another grin. "I was lost for a day and night, until a man clothed in black robes astride an equally black horse found me."

"Nazgul."

"Yes, though I did not know that 'title' for some time. I could not speak any language he knew, so I am sure you can imagine exactly how hard that was. Before I knew what was happening he charged me and then I found myself sitting before him on that wretched horse of his. It was not an enjoyable experience. We galloped off, later meeting up with the other eight. After that it sort of becomes a blur, for I was quite ill by then. I was brought here, cured, and to keep it brief, fell in love with the leader of the Nazgul nine and we married. Now how is that for a bedtime story?" she asked with an amused smile, watching the shock appear in his eyes.

"I have never heard so strange a tale. Does this Alastair love you in return?" Aragorn found it hard believe a Nazgul could feel such a deep emotion as love.

Guinevere smiled, her eyes softening, "Yes, he does. Amazing, is not it?"

"Yes," he agreed as they turned down another corridor. A circular stairway was situated at the end of it. Guinevere led him to it, and stopped.

Looking up into his face, she said, "This set of stairs leads to Lord Sauron's private quarters. When you reach the top you will find a door. Just knock."

Aragorn glanced at the stairs, then returned Guinevere's gaze. "I thank you, Lady. Will I see you again later?"

The emerald eyes lit up with mischief, "You may count on it, Lord Aragorn." In that instant he realized she could be no older than twenty and one.

He smiled as well, "I shall look forward to it, Lady."

"Guinevere. If we are going to be better acquainted, we may move on to the first name stage, yes?"

"Aragorn, then, if I am to call you by yours."

"Deal!" she laughed, letting go of his arm and stepping back. "I must depart for now, and you cannot keep Lord Sauron waiting. If you would give me your consent and the pleasure of your company for a few hours, I will see if you may share your next meal with me."

At the mention of food his stomach reminded him he had yet to eat. "It would be my pleasure to, La- Guinevere," Aragorn replied.

"Good, I will see you later today then. May luck be with you." With on last smile she walked back down the corridor, disappearing around the corner in a flash of green.

He stared after her in brief bemusement, wondering how a woman such as she, who obviously was happy with life, lived here and still kept such a humor. Unless she was but another trickery of the Dark Lord, sent to relax him of his guard. Even as his mind formed the theory his heart rejected it. Guinevere, whoever she was, acted true to herself.

After another moment of reflection, Aragorn focused on the matter at hand. The stairway ascended upward in a spiral, brightly lit and more up kept than the corridors and hallways he had just traveled down.

Two strides brought him to the base of it; another had him standing on the first of the steps. That completed, he continued on, easily making his way up where others would have had difficulty. The lack of exercise and food in the last few days hindered him only slightly, and within minutes he reached the top.

Stepping onto the small landing, Aragorn stared at the single door before him. Simpler than what he had half-expected, it was made of a strong, dark wood inscribed with runes he recognized as an ancient Elvish language, of that he could not read. Yet the intention of the runes was clear: spell words of protection.

So he does worry. Finding a strange reassurance in that thought, that the Dark Lord might possess some traits of Man, Aragorn closed the remaining distance to the door and stopped before it. Raising his right hand, he knocked twice in quick, sure succession, letting his hand fall back to his side afterward. And waited.

~*~

Author's Note, Part Two: The whole Guinevere idea wasn't something thought up for the Surrender to the Darkness storyline alone, she was originally created for another fanfiction I'm working on in my LiveJournal that takes place three years before this. (Actually started as a joke in an attempt to convince a friend that Nazgul *are* sexy… if you picture them smart, dark, and handsome.) I promise to keep interaction with her to a minimum since she really isn't the focus of the story.


	7. Wine

Author: MarieAmethyst  
Title: Surrender to the Darkness  
Rating: R  
Chapter: Seven, Wine  
Author's Notes: What can I say? No one else was writing Aragorn/Sauron slash, so I came up with this. Surrender is based off a lot of my own ideas, and how I view Lord of the Rings. To me Sauron isn't some big flaming eye, and the Nazgul aren't a bunch of almost dead guys running around mindlessly trying to find the One Ring. If you can't deal with that, then this isn't a fic for you. (*grin* Or anyone else, for that matter.) I've toyed with a couple ideas as to how to develop this, but for the most part I'm just writing as it comes to me. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know! I'd be forever grateful. ^_^

I've went back and re-written the chapters a little, adding more and correcting mistakes, that sort of thing. The biggest change is to the character Gwen, in chapter six. Before I had planned on writing a back story to Surrender called Pieces of My Heart, but since that has gotten nowhere, I edited Gwen so she fits more readily in the fic until I can get Pieces written.

If you're having trouble picturing Sauron as something other than a big flaming eyeball, think of Armand from Interview With the Vampire. But with longer hair. ^_~

**UPDATE 12/31/08**: Since so many of you have begged nicely and tracked me down all over the 'Net to ask me if I was ever going to finish it, I have decided to continue Surrender! …Of course I have no idea how I am going to do this, so it should be interesting. :D First off is an overhaul of the story, especially Aragorn's character; he kind of bothers me now. So be looking for updates in 2009. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews/e-mails/comments (I was even mentioned in an article on Aestheticism, lol)! This is for you guys. :)

-*-*-*-

_You can't abandon me  
You belong to me_

_Breathe in and take my life in you  
No longer myself only you  
There's no escaping me, my love  
Surrender_

-*-*-*-

"For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."

~Elrond during the Council of Elrond, FotR~

~*~

Without a sound the door swung inward, permitting a few beams of light to escape from within. A slight fragrance teased his sense, and with a start he realized it was the same that had been in the dream. Roses.

Filing that insight to the back of his mind, he strode forward unhesitatingly into the open doorway. He stopped just as quickly at the scene that greeted him.

A large canopied bed occupied much of the room, draped in layers of black silk. Tapestries, threaded with rich colorful strands, covered most of the wall space. Equally exquisite rugs were scattered on the floor. An unlit fireplace was opposite from the bed and across the room stood another closed door. Overall it presented a cozy feel that one would not expect of the Dark Lord's quarters.

And occupying the bed…

"Come in, Lord Aragorn."

He started, jerking his eyes away from the sight of the lovely pale body spread out on the bed, a stark contrast to the black silk sheets beneath his body. He swallowed slightly, what he had planned to say vanishing from his mind as swiftly as the winds breezed through the trees in far away Rivendell. The dream still fresh in his mind, Aragorn knew his emotions were running high and stretched thin. He realized his mistake, to face the Dark Lord so soon...

"Shut the door if you intend to stay." Amusement was clearly heard in his tone.

Aragorn did just that, grey eyes never leaving ebony. "I wish to speak with you."

Sauron stretched lightly, muscles rippling under the pale skin. With a mental sigh of relief the Ranger saw that the other was clothed in dark trousers. "I am correct to assume you are referring to the little dream sharing? Do not deny it, my lord, I saw and felt your reactions. You enjoyed it as much as I did. If not more."

Already shaking his head before the other had finished, Aragorn fought down the foolish part of himself that wanted to agree. "Nay, to me you appeared as another. I only bear those feelings for one: Arwen, the Lady Evenstar."

In one fluid motion Sauron sat up, stray locks of raven hair flowing in waves to frame the beautiful face, adding to the allure that his mere presence exerted. Idly a pale hand reached out to grasp the crystal goblet filled with dark red wine that rested on the table beside the bed. Catching Aragorn's eyes, he brought the goblet to his lips and drank slowly, visibly savoring the wine. Smiling his pleasure and licking a few drops that glistened on his lips, he asked, "Is that so?"

He shook himself from the slight daze he had fallen into. "Yes."

"Interesting," Sauron murmured as he reclined back onto one arm and took another sip from the goblet.

"What is, that I could care so much for someone? I doubt you know what it is like to love a person so much that you would do anything to bring a smile to their face, that you would give your life to keep them safe from any harm. Have you ever loved someone that much, Lord Sauron?" Aragorn stopped and drew into a deep breath, mentally bracing himself if Sauron decided to take offense.

But Sauron just gazed up at him, an unreadable look on his face. Sipping again from the goblet, he transferred his gaze to a part on the wall and seemed to be contemplating the question. Finally, he said, "I did love someone once, loved him so much that I did do anything to bring a smile to his face, and would have gladly gave my life to have kept him safe." Once again looking at the Ranger and seeing the disbelieving look on his face, he asked with an arched eyebrow, "Does it really surprise you that much?"

"Should it not?" Aragorn countered, "given your reputation for cruelty and disregard for anyone but yourself, most would find it hard to believe that you could bear such feelings for another."

"I was not always the man I am now."

It was Aragorn's turn to arch an eyebrow at the Dark Lord, "So what changed you?"

Lifting the goblet to his mouth and draining it, Sauron smiled mockingly, "What else? Power, Lord Aragorn, power and the chance to control perhaps millions of lives. It is a tantalizing prospect, especially for one who has always desired such."

"You gave up who you were just for power?" Aragorn asked. "Sacrificing your beliefs and principles merely to control lives?" He tilted his head slightly as if intensely curious, "And how did the man you love take your new personality change?"

"As I said, power can be very enticing for one already hungry for even a taste of it. As for my… beloved, I suppose you could say, he was already dead. In a way, his death was another factor. If I had the power I have now he would not have died. I could have prevented his death, and he would be alive and at my side." Sauron said with a trace of bitterness in his voice.

"And you would not have a desire for me?" Aragorn speculated, wondering if it had been wise to continue this thread of discussion.

Sauron smiled wickedly, once again in control of himself, "Oh, I seriously doubt that, my Lord Aragorn. I seriously doubt that." Sitting up sinuously, he reached for the pitcher that was on the table next to the bed, and refilled the goblet. After replacing the pitcher, he glanced up and asked, "Thirsty?"

His mouth, suddenly feeling dry, reminded him that he had not drank anything in days. He knew his own limits and how long he could survive without liquid, and knew he was drawing near to it. Glancing at the goblet, then at the man lounging on the silk-covered bed, he nodded in reply.

Sliding off the bed with a cat-like movement, Sauron stood; his fair, slender body only enhanced by the contrast of his dark trousers against his pale skin. He approached Aragorn slowly, a slight smile playing about his mouth. When the Ranger reached out a hand, he merely shook his head. Stopping just mere inches in front of him, he drank from the goblet, then quickly bent down and claimed the other's mouth with his own.

Aragorn's lips parted in surprise, giving Sauron the entrance he needed. Wine flooded into his mouth, a mixture of sweet and bitter with a hint of something that reminded him of the Dark Lord. He swallowed quickly, but not before a tongue had darted in to taste.

Just as quickly as it had happened, Sauron released his lips and moved back. The slight smile had grown into a wicked smirk. He licked his own lips, and said, "You taste sweeter than any wine, my Lord Aragorn.

"But you are hungry and Lady Genevieve has requested your presence for super. Since she is one of the few people I do have a certain fondness for, I try to keep her happy. Of course there is an ulterior motive to that; keeping her happy keeps her husband happy, who in turn keeps me happy. I digress though. There is an escort outside that will take you to Lady Genevieve. Enjoy your meal, my Lord Aragorn."

Sauron turned away and began walking toward the other door.

"You will not be joining us?" Aragorn asked, surprising even himself with the question. He did not wish to spend any more time in the Dark Lord's company than absolutely necessary.

Sauron glanced back at him through strands of ebony hair, a knowing look on his face. "I find I have a hunger for something else entirely. Now if you wish to indulge in a taste of that meal, you are more than welcome to join me in the bath I am about to take." Tossing an enticing look over his shoulder, he continued on, opening the door and disappearing into the chamber beyond.

Aragorn gazed at the opened doorway for a moment, before turning and exiting into the hallway with an exasperated sigh.


End file.
